Shadows and Dust
by Macaronic-Paradox
Summary: Post S9: The sharks are circling and ready to bite. Story a little angsty, Harry and Ruth each have some tough decisions ahead...
1. Intro

**OK so this is a take on events that 'could' happen from the end of series 9. Potentially a slightly more real feel than in some of my other fics (hm, there's a paradox!)  
>…anyhoo hopefully it makes for reasonable reading. Here's a brief intro.<strong>

**Royal wedding**

The team had gathered on the grid and surrounded the flat screen tv.

All was going to plan, several pre-emptive arrests had steered the day free of trouble and watching the Royals head back to the Palace, the day was close to being a success.

The chariot pulled the newlyweds through the gates of Buckingham Palace, the feathered plumes of The Household Calvary flanking each side. Harry stole a moment to smile as he watched with amusement the riders clinging to their flighty horses, each gentle beast, stirred with bounding energy as crowds roared them on. He knew better than most that despite the appearance of experience each solider was sending up silent prays that they weren't 'the one', (for there's always one) who'll hit the deck.

"Just Prince Edward and they'll all be inside." Mused Demetri.

"Hm? Harry woke back to the task in hand, "Oh, Yes," he groaned, "utter clown."

"Not a fan of the Prince?" Returned Beth, amusement heavy in her voice.

Harry grumbled, trailing off into a mutter. "I served a while as his security liaison. Complete nightmare to co-ordinate, wouldn't listen to a thing I suggested, man thinks he's untouchable. …Bloody minded twit."

Ruth, who was listening with quite interest, turned her face to shade her amusement.

-.-.-.-

The royals had lined themselves up, each a sitting duck on the balcony, Harry's gut had wound tight, this would be an opportune time for terror to strike. It would only be when all had returned inside that Harry and the rest of the team could draw a final breath of relief...

Ruth should have been sharing the team's sense of apprehension and baited breath but as it was, the day's events had been somewhat of a distraction. Repeatedly her eyes would wonder and settle over Harry and a sense of regret would sweep her.

It'd been 2 month since 'the proposal' and a week since he'd recused her in the Albany debacle. Ever since the atmosphere between them had remained tensely polite and yesterday at Lucus' Funeral, a quiet affair, Demetri had sat between her and Harry and there was certainly no danger of marriage proposals this time.

She knew she'd been hard on Harry for his decision to trade for her life, more than she'd truly meant to be but these were difficult times and in such emotional turmoil she trusted herself more in anger than with an open heart. Hearts, she reasoned, were harder to break if kept cold.

-.-.-.-

The Royals turned and began to disappear from the balcony. Now safe, Section D's responsibilities of the Royal's safety passed over to section E, they'd got the relatively easy job of securing the reception do.

Harry hadn't registered Ruth's gaze and distant musings. A man of fewer words these last few weeks he simply gave the team a satisfied nod and paced off. The team was left to interpret it as 'Good Job, Well done,' and they began to disperse and filter back to their stations.

There was something different Ruth thought with worrying alarm. Something changed in Harry, he seemed ghostly. She could see him, hear his words but there was something distinctly tangible that was missing from his presence. She even preferred the fighting between them, at least then there was passion there, opposed to this, the static floating in polite, professional, no-man's land.

…**tbc**


	2. Rooftop

**Rooftop**

It was late in the day, the growing rumble of traffic signalled the rise of the rush hour surge to escape the summer heat of the city but up on the roof a cool breeze blew either side of a lone figure.

With fading light Harry watched patiently as a rose tinted sun sank slowly behind the block of city shadows. He savoured the sight, for tonight it would be his last viewing from up here.

The sun set in a glorious glow and Harry remained lost to the evening, his eyes and body now numb to reality.

.-.-.-.

When she found him dusk had truly settled, Ruth sated tentatively, "A good day today." Her voice, waking him to both her presence and to conversation.

Harry glanced to his side then, a frown creeping at his face, he looked back out to the city."Hm." He weakly agreed.

"Hopefully they'll be happy together." She continued to coax conversation.

He relented, his voice gravelly, "They deserve a chance at that… hopefully she'll have better luck than his mother did."

Ruth lent on the wall next to him, "She couldn't have much worse." Ruth darkly joked.

"True."

A pause lingered.

"You erm, you've been quiet the last couple of days. Everything ok?"

Harry winced. "As much as it ever is Ruth."

"I-I just wondered, what with the wedding, well if it'd…" she trailed off hoping and knowing he'd understand what she was asking.

Harry slowly turned his gaze from the growing number of twinkling city lights to her wide blue eyes. Calmly and plainly he replied.

"You think I'm crumbling at the mention of wedding bells and happy couples?"

The truth was, he was- partly.

"No course not, I just."

Harry grunted and looked back out towards the city. "There's a lot going on Ruth, a hell of a lot."

Ruth frowned and flustered into impatience, softly demanded. "Then tell me."

Harry was gazing out to the city, his face remained unreadable.

"Harry? Please." She rested a hand on his arm and saw his fist instantly brace against her touch, she let it slip off and Harry finally replied.

"You _are_ partly right," He conceded, "Today's wedding _has_ been… an uncomfortable reminder."

"Please Harry, we're still friends… I hope."

She didn't expect what came from him next.

"Ruth I failed you," he said simply, adding as an afterthought, "much like I failed Jane."

Ruth, flinched with a mix of memories but this opportunity of candid conversation was needed, by both.

Expecting it to be brushed off, her question was gently approached, "What happened… between you and Jane?"

If it were anyone else asking he'd not even need to pause before telling them exactly where to go but this wasn't just anyone. His eyes grew lost to the depths of the city lights and his mind traced back to what seemed like another life. "You're asking what went wrong?"

"Yeah," a little surprised he seemed to be considering an answer.

With heavy sigh he gave an honest answer, "Jane thought I loved my job more than her… she was wrong."

"Oh."

"…I did however… value my sense of duty and patriotic responsibility, over her.

"Ah." No prizes for romance but she valued his frankness.

He continued his muse, "Jane and I were never going to work, not in the long run, we were always too different. This job- just speeded up the invertible… At least in some ways I've learnt from my mistakes, learnt to prioritise what's important to me…"

Harry didn't turn he retained his glassy gaze in distant contemplation.

Although his mind was deeply distant he stirred back to reality and to remove all doubt of his meaning and murmured sadly, "…_that's_ _you_ Ruth. Who's important to me."

She greeted him with initial silence then…"I don't know if I can live with that, with the burden of it."

Harry scoffed, "Burden?" The insult was clear to read in his face and he flashed a painful glance in her direction.

"My life rated more than a thousand others? It's not fair."

"Albany?" he muttered. Somehow he thinks she'll never forgive him.

"Yes,"

New life seemed to enter Harry as he angled his body to face hers, fire lit his eyes. "It was a fake, Ruth. How many times. You think I'd let you die over that? A ruddy toaster's more deadly than Albany ever could be!"

"And next time?" She returned defiantly.

He sighed, dejection edging his tone, "There'll not be a next time."

She shook her head, "You _can't_ promise that."

With a look of knowing, his eyes clicked with hers. "Yes, I can."

Ruth was about to argue but something in Harry's eyes caused her to falter. He knew something.

"What do you mean?" She asked quickly.

Clearing his throat he returned his gaze back over the hazy evening skyline. "Last week the Home Secretary told me there'll not just be an enquiry into Albany, but my career as a whole."

"What?"

"It means it's over Ruth. They kept me on for the wedding, our department had done most the planning it made sense for me to oversee it but come sunrise and I'll be out of office faster than a spanked poodle."

"They can't do that." Wide eyed she willed him wrong.

He simply answered with a look that read – '_Yes they can'_

"But- why? You're valuable to them, they wouldn't-"

"Why do politicians do anything? Popularity. Albany is the first concrete thing I've done that holds no element of redemption, no matter how I swing my story. Whoever gives me the boot will be top dog. They'll be lining up for a boot."

Dawning reality gripped Ruth's expression. "Oh God."

"It's not your fault." Harry couldn't help but soothe.

"No, it's yours." She spat with hurt.

Harry raised an eyebrow, granted, he kind of deserved that. "Ruth, I don't regret the decisions I made that day and whatever comes of it, I never will."

Ruth's features softened and after letting that sink in a moment he added, "…they've been circling for some time now, if it wasn't for Albany they'd of found something else."

"So what's the worst case scenario?" She whispered in defeat.

He paused.

"Harry?"

He frowned. "Well if it were only Albany then I might get off with my resignation, my pension and of course the title would be binned…"

Ruth was restless for him to continue, "What do you mean 'if it were _only _Albany?' "

Harry squinted, "Ruth, there _are_ things in my past I'm not proud of, that if I could turn back the clock, I'd do differently."

"Wouldn't we all." She whispered with softness that was hard to ignore.

He continued regardless, "Youth's an easy and predictable excuse but I _was_ young Ruth and I_ did_ do things that at the time I neither had the interest or the moral courage to question."

Further details of his confession worried her, instead she steered the conversation back to the present. "…what will they do with you?"

"The only thing I suspect they can,"

"Which is?"

"It's unlikely I'll escape prison time." He'd said it so calmly that briefly Ruth thought she'd imagined it.

"Prison?" she exclaimed with fright.

He mused darkly. "If I'm lucky 10, if not 20."

"They can't."

Looking to her he replied levelly, "Both you and I know they can and will."

"But…But."

Finally he stilled her hands with his own.

"Ruth, there's nothing anyone, even you, can do now."

Ruth's face crumpled, we can fight them Harry, together. We've the The Home secretary, he-"

" '_He_' is washing his hands of me like I were a plague drenched rat." Gripping her hands tighter in his, "Sometimes you need to know when to throw in the towel. I'm willing to accept my fate."

"No. No, it's not fair, you don't deserve _this_."

Harry's hands slipped off hers, "You don't know what I've done." There was a stark warning in his words.

What horrors had he seen and been part of she didn't know and her stomach flinched in fear of his past.

A shrill ring broke through the evening air. Harry braced his phone to his ear.

"Hello?...Yes…Yes…I understand."

He clicked it closed. "I have to go Ruth."

"What do you want me to do?"

Harry offered a smile of resignation, "There's nothing you can you can do…" He took a step closer and with an air of finality, slowly tilted his head and placed a feather light kiss to her check. "…for tomorrow the witch hunt begins." Slipping away he turned on a circle and his heels clicked on the concrete rooftop.

His breath still fresh on her cheek, Ruth's lips trembled as he moved off and silently a tear followed his retreating figure. Ruth's body grew ridged with growing anger and frustration, her small hands balled into tightly wrung fists she broke. "Don't you dare," she bawled, "don't you pretend you're bowing out gracefully when you're really giving up!"

Harry's feet scuffed on the concrete as he turned with a pause at the rooftop door, he ligured a moment meeting her fierce gaze with his warm one and with a sad smile he dipped his head and faded into the doorway darkness.

Ruth finally considered that the fight in Harry might be lost.

**tbc…**


	3. the witch hunt begins

**You're all so very lovely, your comments are always so much appreciated and I will get the next chapter up very very soon. **

**Till then, here's Kind of a filler but it's also a necessity :) **

**-.-**

**THE GRID- **

Ruth arrived at work the next morning in time to see a chain of busy Internal Affair's goons trawling through and removing large stacks of papers from Harry's office. Ruth's mind played back what Harry had said last night_. '… tomorrow the witch hunt begins',_ but even she hadn't thought they'd be pounced on so dramatically and quite so quickly.

Trotting over to Ruth's station, Tariq announced with a panicked sense of alarm, "Harry's been suspended."

"I know," Ruth breathed softly.

"Right, well, what do we do?" He pressed, as though time was of the essence.

Ruth's eyes were still fixed on his office. Swallowing her feelings she planted her heavy bag on her desk and beginning to remove her coat, replied, "We get on and do our job Tariq… like we always do."

"But- …I don't understand."

Ruth gave him a sad sympathetic smile. "I know." Turning on her computer she sighed, "Neither do I really."

Tariq had been deflated, "Right," he replied in defeat. Confused but not knowing what else to do, Tariq turned and headed back to his station.

Ruth for once wasn't simply being stubborn and accepting Harry's refusal for help. She'd learnt her mistake in doing that after his close call with Lucus on the roof. If Ruth had her way she'd be neck high in files and documents, trying to steer Harry a safe path through all this but firm in the knowledge the department was now under investigation and every movement would be watched, Ruth realised by simply trying to help, it could bite them back and the whole department declared corrupt.

There was no choice in it, Harry was left alone at sea, a storm was brewing.

-.-.-

In the coming days, stark reality took hold.

The first day his office had been turned upside, today the second, she'd returned from lunch to see his office all but dismantled and by day three, all desks on the grid would be deemed to be fair game.

With the fourth day came the interviews. These were less interviews and more an interrogation process. Ruth it seemed, as she half expected, was the prime contestant in the quiz-show from hell. All the questions hovered over her knowledge, past and present, of Harry's life. In truth there wasn't much to tell. She knew more of his character than anyone but his life beyond the grid, remained almost an enigma, even to her. This did little to satisfy her hosts and the unrelenting questions; reliving details of past operations and decisions made, were retold and re-quizzed over and over.

News from Harry himself was non-existent. All that was known was he was at home and under strict supervision, the likelihood being, he'd be getting his own share of interrogation.

Since the night on the rooftop, the night he'd simply walked away, Ruth had barely been home. In fact, for several nights she'd stayed in the 'on duty' room tucked in the rear corridors. The uncomfortable bunk and dim light seemed preferable than facing home, not quite alone for Beth would be there but, a home which acted as a reminder of her life, only half lived.

-.-.-.-.-

It was the end to very long week and now, the end of the day. Beth hovered over Ruth. Ruth, within her towers of work, sensed her presence and turned to look up. Beth then quite calmly but with unflinching firmness informed Ruth, " I don't care if I have to drag you, you'll come home tonight whether you like it or not. Be ready in 10." Without chance to argue, Beth santered off.

Tired and in need of a hot meal, Ruth wouldn't of up much of a fight anyway and 10 minutes later, finishing the last of her typing she powered down her computer. As she did the quiet din of the grid's television, permanently set to 'BBC news 24', was faintly audible. With eyes narrowed and forehead creased with a frown, she snapped to attention. _Did they just say 'Sir Harry?'_

Spinning round Ruth was greeted with the sight of Harry's name and 'Breaking News', banner fed across the screen. She rose to her feet and snatching the remote from the side, thumped up the volume.

A news reader stood smartly dressed in front of the Internal Affairs office. Horror seizing her, Ruth's jaw drifted open.

"…In an extraordinary development the BBC have this evening been informed that this High ranking officer within MI5 is currently being tried over the leaking of state secrets to the Chinese. Unconfirmed reports still coming in also suggest Sir Harry could _even_ be responsible for a number of unexplained civilian deaths as part of his Northern Island postings dating several years back. It's currently unclear of his motives but the more pressing questions will be the implications on our national security...

…Sir Harry's, knighted only two years ago for his apparent life-long service to the country, is charged with crimes against the state but it begs the question of how a man of such standing could fall so foul and, if guilty, what is to be done with him. Imprisonment is an option but we ask, is that enough? I'm joined by..."

In disbelief, Ruth zoned out, "Oh no." She could think of a few back-stabbing political worms, ready to crawl out the rotten woodwork and leak the story, push Harry's name a little deeper into the mud, foolishly though, she'd hoped they'd not stoop so low.

By now the horrified and shocked remaining occupants of the grid had silently, and with eyes equally full of surprise, gathered either side of her.

"How'd you think they found out?" Beth asked.

Bitterness laced her voice as Ruth offered the most likely explanation. "Someone's making sure he can't escape with just a slap on the wrist."

"What's this about civilian deaths in Ireland?" Demetri quizzed.

With no idea, Ruth shrugged.

"It's a smear campaign, probably end up being a load of rubbish," Tariq suggested with more optimism than he truly felt.

The next shot of the screen jumped to was behind the reporter. To the grids amazement it showed Harry, tieless and handcuffed, being led out the offices towards a waiting police car. Harry's face, obviously aware of the cameras, remained a tight mask of emotion throughout.

Ruth's heart lunged, she could see in the face of disaster he was trying to appear strong but even she had to admit that to the casual onlooker he probably looked every bit the callous, unfeeling traitor that the blood thirsty reporters would want for their story. PR, she remembered, and false niceties, had never been his forté.

Harry was quickly stuffed with some force, and with two 'goons', inside the car. The shot flicked back to the studio reporter…

"He's finished," Demetri added a little shocked, "The public will have already judged him and even if he gets off, now his face is all over the press, he'll never escape it."

No one argued, Demetri had hit the depressing nail on the head and a sombre mood settle over the grid. Although Harry's inquiry had barely got underway, the probable conclusion to it already appeared shadowed in a bleak reality.

Tbc…


	4. CHapter 4

**Thanks you guys who are still reading, and sorry if it's a little angsty, hopefully some light at the end of the tunnel...**

**Ruth's Home**

"Ruth?" Beth called as she came thundering down the stairs.

Watching 'news 24', Ruth was snuggled on the sofa, a cushion folded neatly under her arms and a glass of wine within easy reach, she dragged her eyes up from the tv screen. There'd been no fresh updates from Harry's story but every half hour or so they'd replay the clip of him being bundled into the car, every time they did her heart was injected with a jolt and it being the closest she could get to him, found herself compelled to watch it. "Hm?"

Beth's face was edged in sadness. "Need to talk."

Ruth's eyes narrowed and drifted back to her screen, "Can it wait, it's just-"

"-It's about Harry." She announced deadpan.

Ruth's eyes bounce back to meet Beth's who'd already sat herself down opposite. Ruth hit the mute button and Beth had her full attention.

Beth opened a folder and explained. "I made some phone calls, subtle phone calls, and found out some of the additional charges on Harry."

Beth went on, "There's a few Ruth." She made it sound like it was an apology- and in a way, it was.

Ruth braced herself. "Alright. Let's have it."

"The main one. The one which give it a couple of hours will be headline news, is the one with the most evidence to back it. It dates back to the ..'s Harry, was young officer at the time and working undercover in N Ireland. The Op went bad. Captured, he spent a week watching his best mate being slowly tortured to death. After his escape Harry acted on new intelligence to swiftly avenge his friend's death. Just two days after escape Harry led an assault on a house holding a family of IRA key players. The targets appeared unarmed and the plan _had_ been an arrest Op but seems Harry changed that, he made it clear to the assaulting team that there would be no prisoners."

"Unarmed? He wouldn't…" Ruth's meek protest was denial speaking, having just watched his best friend die, she knew it was more than likely he of wanted revenge, who wouldn't?

Beth frowned apologetically but continued, "In what was a 10 minute in and out assault, four IRA ring leaders were killed and I guess, in Harry's eyes, it seemed some justice done."

"An eye for an eye." Ruth mused disappointedly.

"Exactly."

Ruth drew a shallow breath, "Well if that's the worst then-"

"Wait. Sorry, that's not all. The thing is there was a problem. Turned out intelligence had done a massive cock-up. When they came to ID the bodies of the family, they weren't what intelligence had suggested they were. It would have been OK if they were just arrested but the reality of was that Harry had in fact ordered the killing of a Mother, Father and two brothers, all completely innocent."

The colour in Ruth face drained to a stony white and her expression fell.

Beth pressed on. "Admitting the cock-up would have been a disaster for everyone. Seems his commanding officer encouraged him to 'rectify' the problem. Harry's pulled in contacts and the house was staged. Guns, terrorist contact details and bomb equipment were planted to help falsify the guilt of the family. In doing so, Harry was deemed justified in the thinking that the family had posed a probable and imminent risk to national security. He got off…till now."

Ruth felt nauseous and numb .

"There's documents Ruth, proof he organised their deaths and the cover up."

Silence hung in the room. Ruth's heart was torn once again by the reality of the man she loved. It was with surprising quiet calm that Ruth finally spoke. "Thanks. I think-erm, I think that's enough for now." Ruth gave a weak but very forced smile to Beth.

Beth nodded and a wall of guilt gripped her. "I'm sorry Ruth, I know you two were… close. I just thought you'd want to know now before the media butcher it to make it sound even worse."

"I know." Ruth nodded and Beth decided she'd give Ruth some space. Leaving the file on the coffee table Beth went upstairs to bed.

Leaning over to the file she softly closed it. Gripping tighter the cushion at her chest and as soon as Beth was out of ear shot Ruth allowed a weak sob to splutter from the growing tears. Bleary eyed she looked up to the mute tv, once again the clip of him being thrust into a police car, rolled silently through the screen... "You idiot," she wept, not really knowing if the accusation was for him or herself.

-.-.-

With dawn came realisation.

Still early, the sky outside was dark, streaks of cobalt and greys had just starting to filter through the night sky, warning of the approaching sun when Ruth's eyes floated open. Laying slouched across the sofa, an empty bottle of red sat next to a half full wine glass by her side. Ruth groaned with discomfort as her shoulders and back began to protest in stiffness and the neon tint of the tv, still silently flickering in the corner, forced her tired eyes into squint. Reaching for the remote she zapped the screen to black and sat upright. Inhaling a deeper breath and running her fingers loosely through her unruly chocolate mane, it gave herself a moment to gather her thoughts.

Despite the tears last night, somewhere between Beth's bomb shell, finishing the bottle of wine and passing out from utter emotional and physical exhaustion, Ruth had done some surprisingly clear thinking.

Harry, for a long time now had been well and truly knocked from the pedestal that she'd once had him perched so high on but she held one pivotal unchanging factor above all others, certain that at his soul, Harry was a good man, a man with a good heart, it made him a man worth fighting for.

So Ruth would bare the reality of his past, be it good, bad, or like last night, brutally ugly. She'd accept the blood on Harry's hands, the truth was she had to, in their job, no one was ever clean, not completely.

Her past week of misery she'd realised stemmed from the reality that for once there was nothing to do, no way to help. Accepting there was no way she, his analyst, could influence anything, it had dawned, halfway through her third glass of red, there was still something she, as a friend, could give him.

All communication between the grid and Harry had been banned and the last time they'd spoken, on that rooftop, was well over a week ago. Pulling a pen and paper from her bag, Ruth decided it was time to get a message to him. She'd be strong. Saint or Sinner, she'd give him the last of her strength because, that's all she had left.

_He,_ was all she had left.

tbc…

**_review ? :)_**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the reviews so far I'm glad some of you like it! :D**

**I find Angst rather a challenge so hopefully I'm not boring anyone, I do appreciate your help/comments soo much :). Bit of a shorter one so aiming to get another chapter up in the next hours…  
><strong>

**Warning: one swear word in here! :-s**  
>-<p>

Sat alone at home under house arrest Harry swirled the amber liquor in the glass. His shirt was crumpled and collar open as he slouched lazily in the armchair. Staring numbly across the room, the unrelenting quiet tick of the clock marked each passing moment of his misery with piercing precision.

Whiskey was failing to quench his thirst, its burn no longer satisfied and its taste seemed sour. Nothing now seemed sweet; his only comfort lay in figuring an escape from this nightmare.

Harry had never spoken to a soul regarding the truth behind the Irish events but the human wreckage he'd left in its wake was itself, inescapable.

The youngest of the family, a girl who he thanked God was at her Aunt's that fateful night, had found herself the recipient of a mystery benefactor. The act didn't settle his guilt, he knew no amount of cold cash could return her family but nonetheless he felt a duty and had over the years, with upmost discretion, checked up on her. The devil had turned guardian angel but was a man he hoped, she'd know nothing of.

As to the investigation, it was clearly not going well. Professionally and publically he was a disgrace, a fact he could have just about lived with were his life measurable by any other means.

Family life had always been a disaster and his personal life didn't measure that much better. He expected less bitterness from the culmination of all the terrorist plotters he'd ever helped to incarcerate than Ruth now probably had for him. She'd despise him, he was sure.

The worst of it though, the hair that'd broken the camel's back was the phone call from his daughter, Catharine. Having heard the news and read the papers, she'd been washed with the darkly painted picture of half-truths and dramatized evil acts. None of which, to his shame, he could flatly deny…

-.-.-

**An hour earlier…**

He answered the phone and her first words were laced in wishful doubt "Is it true dad, did you really do those things?"

The phone resting on his ear, his features fell, "Yes," he breathed.

Her voiced fractured into hardened anger yet he could tell she was close to tears, his brow crumpled in response, "Dad I don't understand? After everything, _everything _you've said."

"Cathrine I-"

"No dad!" She cut in, "You've always had the excuse that '_we_' came second, family came second because you _had _to do the right thing, _had _to be the better person where other weren't. All along-"

"You have to understand I-"

"You killed an entire family!"

"It was error of judgement I-."

"What? A whole family, that's just an error is it? Well thank Fuck it wasn't a mistake!" her caustic tone ate through him.

"That's _not_ what I meant and they were at least 20's, hardly kids." He stupidly and desperately tried to dig himself out of the abyss.

"Who cares? They were Innocent."

Harry was in fact on Catharine's side of the argument and if he'd thought about it he wouldn't have even bothered to offer a defence at all. "I know. Cath… it's not like it doesn't haunt me."

"Good. It should." Her voice was its coldest. "I just can't believe you covered it up, made them look like terrorists…. You know…it's _you_ who strikes more terror in me than any terrorist could."

"Catharine please," He begged.

"I don't care, and-" she hesitated, a flash of doubt perhaps, but forced the finish, "and- I don't want to hear from you anymore."

"What?" Devastation edged his voice.

Her breathing fast but her voice stayed level in its tone. "I mean it dad. Before I could understand, a part of me would think you did some greater good but any respect I've ever had is gone. You've never been any good and now, you're nothing but a murderer and you scare me."

She paused but Harry himself didn't trust himself to speak, he couldn't risk the sob that might form if he did.

Firmly, but with growing sadness, she spoke, "I want you to stay away. I mean it."

The line went dead but Harry still held the phone limply to his ear. His eyes, lost to some distant point, "Cath?" came his broken whisper. She was gone and so was his hope.

Harry's face, a picture of pain, drew in laboured breaths and rubbing his palms over his face he realised nothing would ever be the same. Catherine hated him, Ruth probably hated him and the press made sure all those whom were undecided would hate him. Right now, even he hated him.

.-.-.-.

Set back in the living room, Harry had carefully set down his drink. From his side he picked up Scarlet's long leash. The scruffy Jack Russell lifted her head from the floor, optimistic but sensing the mood, cautious in early celebration of potential walkies.

Placing down his glass, he twisted the lead in his hands, delicately twisting and sliding the rope with ease till he looked at it with wonder. In his hands he held no longer the leash but a noose…

**:-O**

**tbc…**


	6. Chapter 6

**Q: Would I? …**

-.-.-.

He stared at the noose like it was bottomless. Like if he peered for long and hard enough it'd provide an answer.

He'd always held the opinion that suicide was a coward's act, running from ones torments to leave nothing but grief for family and friends to cope with in its wake.

Now though, now he was pondering the option.

"Can't go on." he murmured weakly as his finger's curled tighter around the smooth cord that formed the loose.

His family wouldn't grieve his passing, not now, not after everything and now _this_. And friends? Well they'd been scarce before the scandal but now, now they were nigh invisible. His thoughts then turned to Ruth. Wonderful Ruth, whom a future with, if beyond reach before, was now beyond hope.

It made no sense but it was her reaction to his suicide he feared most. Ruth's anger didn't so much phase him but her disappointment, in him, something he'd caused too often, did.

With a teary smile he imagined her here right now, she'd probably give him a hard slap, tell him to pull it together and he would, for_ her_ he would.

His mind still on Ruth, with breathy sigh his shoulders sagged and he echoed, "Can't go on?… Must. go on." Sliding his fingers he ripped at one end of the rope, tugging it, it released the knot and once more became but an idle leash.

Realising his checks were wet he wiped his sleeve across his face and with depressed energy, lifted himself to his feet. Venturing to the kitchen, Harry decided he needed to brew up a _very_ strong cup of coffee.

-.-.-

Flipping on the kettle, his muscle felt weak and shaky, the reality of the dark thoughts that had just gripped him so strongly, just moments ago, were a blow to his foundations.

Tone fierce he muttered, "Get a grip Pearce," and with a deep breath that restored some energy he turned to reach for the coffee jar.

Turning, it was then that he spotted the small white envelope lying on the kitchen floor, apparently posted through the dog flap of the garden door.

Harry paused, motionless for a fraction of a second then in glorious release, grunted with a growing smile, joyed with the simple amusement at the ease whoever it was, had evaded the observations of the IA individuals posted on guard at his front door.

Carefully lifting the small white envelope the address was simply marked: _Harry_

-.-.-

Instantly he recognised the writing as Ruth's.

Running his fingers over the envelope he took a moment to savour the sight. His name was crafted in fountain pen not biro. He'd no idea why that was of consequence only that perhaps it seemed less official and more personal. God he hoped it was personal. Dangling by his fingertips to the cliff edge, he needed something, some reason to stay holding on.

Striding into the living room, envelope in hand, he drew shut the curtains and turned on some soothing background music, he wanted escapism, if only an illusion of it.

Sitting himself he paused a moment, a frown glimpsed his face as he realised these could just as easily be words of anger than of support. Somehow it didn't matter, just knowing she was thinking of him in _any_ way seemed better than none at all.

Carefully he peeled back the crisp edges and pulled out the contents to reveal a folded slip of pristine white paper.

Carefully penned in blue ink was the beautiful sight of her script. Seen so many times by him on countless post-it notes and paperwork, its familiarity alone was something he'd missed.

He read each word with impossible care; these were words he never wanted to reach the end of.

And so he began, with her voice so clear in his head.

_Harry,_

_I think it's fair to say that over the years together we've both been to hell and back but for the first time I find myself without a plan, without a way out of this mess. Truth be told, it's destroying me. _

_Yesterday I again found myself defending you to some IA brat. I'm not proud to admit it but I lost my patience and I couldn't help snapping that, 'he who's without sin, should cast the first bloody stone.' I of course blame you for the self-righteous- religious tone, it's obviously rubbed off on me somewhat… It did seem to shut the brat up though. _

_I want to be honest with you though, because I only ever want to be honest now, the hidden truths of your past were, and still are, difficult to hear. At first I was so angry at you and I still don't pretend to condone or even understand what you did but, and it's a big 'but'. I've decided to judge you as the man you are today, the man I've known for the last nine years and the man who in spite and despite everything, I regard as my dearest and my best'st friend._

_Harry, in these dark hours you needn't feel alone because even with the world against you know that I'll stand by you. Because as hopeless as we both are at saying these things, whatever should come of this, nothing could make me love you less._

_Yours, Ruth x_

His breath felt thick. His eyes stalled over the final line and as he blinked back tears he mopped the corners of each eye with his thumb. '_God I love you Ruth.'_

Carefully and silently he refolded the note and casting his eye across the room he registered the dejected mutt that loyally lay nestled at his feet. He reached for the leash, the familiar feel of the rope beneath his fingers, he cleared his throat and sniffing back residual tears aimed to energise the little creature by adding some gentle cheer to his rasp, "Come on girl, I know a back way outta here…what's say we go walkies?"

Softening his tired features, a humble smile had flourished.

**A: Nope, just couldn't have him do it… ;-)**

**HR next….**

**Tbc…**


	7. Chapter 7

**You are fabulous patient reviewing people! Thanks so much for your thoughts and comments they keep the chapters coming!**

**Ok so I promise less angst, well… a little less.**

**-.-.-**

According to Beth, 'The shit had hit the fan' but this was Ruth's first weekend off in over two weeks and she needed a change of pace. She was determined to have one day free from thinking, worrying, working or the hat-trick of all those, Harry.

Ruth it seemed, wasn't about to get the Saturday she'd hoped for...

-.-.-

**Ruth's Garden:**

The Gods had been kind and were rewarding her with some early summer sun. Caring for the few surviving but neglected plants in the garden, Ruth offered them sips of much needed water then, having remembered how to actually use it, powered up the lawn mower to sheer the soft grass down to an acceptable length.

Pleased, if not a little proud of her efforts she was now truly sapped of any residual strength and alone in the garden, decided an afternoon nap was a well-deserved reward.

Lying herself on a stretched blanket, a small radio played quietly at her side. The sun delivered a satisfying warmth over her skin and slowly that warmth seeped through her. With heavy eyelids she abandoned her book and her breathing now slow and deep, she was gradually lost to an idle slumber.

Assuming the neighbour's cat was once again being inquisitive, Ruth ignored the distant background noise, the quiet rustle and the advancing scrunch of grass. It was only when she sensed a looming shadow hovering over her, that Ruth blinkingly opened her eyes. The sharp light stung but the reality of a large figure reaching at her sent a cry of horror through her. Her reactions were quick but quicker, was the hand that covered her mouth and muffled her cry.

Her body struggled, arms flailing and lashing out randomly whilst her eyes squinted in a battle with the light, in the scuffle the blur of an image slowly came to focus.

Hushing her, Harry's brown eyes calmly gazed back. Realising it was him, her breath now fast and heavy, her arms wilted their assault and came to rest on his shoulders.

As her breathing began to level, Harry retrieved one arm that he'd had restraining her and with a finger to his lips, signalled for quiet.

Dumbly she nodded, noting his rather scruff appearance of a blue creased, tie-less shirt, the shade of stubble edging his jaw and ruffled hair, the latter she conceded might be partly her fault but the rest was a little concerning.

Releasing his hold he twisted over to the radio and up'd the volume. Now knelt at her side, he turned back and explained. "Never know who's listening," his voice a whispered rasp.

Having sat up, Ruth unleashed her annoyance as she thumped him loosely on his chest, "You bloody scared the life out of me."

Quick to catch her hands in his and seeing the betraying lines of her smile, Harry's dark eyes smiled back at her rebuke. "Sorry" he said, his face coved with a growing smitten smile as his hands interlaced with hers.

Holding her hands so gently in his, she quickly forgave his blundering entrance. Seeing only_ her_ Harry, she was hit with the realisation of how much she's missed those dark roaming eyes.

Harry meanwhile felt rejuvenated by the coy smile and flirtive eyes that'd replaced her briefly hostile defence.

"How are you?" she breathed.

"Better… for seeing you." Harry berated himself for gushing but it _was_ true.

With hopeful eyes he spotted her breath catch and the rising blush paint her cheeks. What he was unaware of was the romantic in Ruth was also swooning at the fact he was still holding her hands, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over her fingers as they exchanged conversation.

"Well you look terrible." She only half joke.

Harry chuckled, "Thanks."

"And you're not eating properly, I can tell."

Harry frowned, a little embarrassed, "Ruth I've lost a few pounds, I'm in no danger of wasting away."

"Well don't lose anymore." She warned worriedly.

Harry looked at her inquisitively.

"It's just, I like you the way you are."

The corners of Harry's lips battled hard not to rise up to a smug grin and compromised with a warm smile of content.

Clearing her throat she dipped her head, "Did you-erm did you get…?"

"Your letter? Yes."

"Oh" Her eyes still wandered from his, "That's good."

Squeezing her hands in reassurance, his tone grew dense "Thank you Ruth, for not…" trailing off, she looked up and saw him shrug.

With a sympathetic smile she nodded, "I'd never give up on you, for better or for worse." The phrase, that surprised Ruth as much as him, snapped Harry's startled face to hers.

Shaking her head in mortification, "Sorry I didn't mean to…Oh God I am sorry."

With a familiar sigh, Harry's hands slipped from hers, he softly squeezed her shoulder and with a frown that he tried to shape into a wiry smile, he sadly conceded, "It's alright."

She shook her head, "No it's not, I'm sorry."

His eyes misted over but the word he spoke were clear to hear, "To have and to hold,

"What?"

"for better or for worse,

"Harry?" Ruth's frown deepened, then she realised.

"For richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till _death_ us do part…"

A pained expression filled Ruth's face but Harry smiled, "...always thought the ending was a bit depressing for wedding vows. Don't you think?"

"I'd erm, I'd never thought." Feeling every bit the wicked witch, Ruth bit her lip.

There was no scorn in his reply just regret, "No. No I suppose not."

Harry look back to Ruth, her eyes had softened. Through mirrored gaze, where blue eyes met brown, the pregnant pause was filled with mutual thoughts of a marriage that never was. The deep colour in their eyes was all that was left to silently speak of truths that they still never dare say out loud.

It was perhaps the song changing on the radio or a bird flying overhead, something, Harry wasn't sure what, booted him back to reality.

Time, Harry was aware, had drifted on and through necessity rather than desire, he was forced to shake free from the moment. He'd a purpose to his visit, one he could ignore no longer. "Ruth," he ventured cautiously, "I've a favour to ask you."

Realising, his 'back to business' tone, Ruth nodded sadly, "I thought you might," disappointment laced her reply.

"You've heard how well the inquiry's going then?" His joke remained cheerless.

"I read some of the initial reports."

Shaking his head, "You can't have, those aren't due out for another-…"

He was silenced by a quietly-smug look from Ruth which served to remind him just how brilliant she was at such matters.

Her fingers began to wring round her ring in growing apprehension, "What is it you want me to do?"

"Right." He shifted his weight awkwardly between aching knees, "Thing is Ruth, I-er need some ID, under aliases. Driver's licences, Birth certificates, Passports, that sort of thing."

"Why?... Harry you're not going to run." She more told than questioned.

Ignoring her Harry pulled a paper package from his pocket. "There's pictures for the documents in here and cash for development." He offered it over to her.

Ruth didn't take the package, inside she felt broken and with an undertone of disbelief replied, "I never took you as a coward."

Her words stung and his face showed it. "I'm many things you didn't take me for Ruth."

She paused; the depth of his retort knocked her back.

With a slow shake of her head she softened and tried a different approach, "It's just- …You can't run. You can't, you're better than that."

Emotion strained his voice, "And I won't. Not if I don't have to, but I _can't_ do prison time either. I can't. Ruth this is my last resort, you of _all_ people should understand that."

Ruth began to get to grips with the idea she _could_ lose him. Her lip quivered and to delay the filling tears from spilling she held onto the coldness in her voice, "You're letting them win."

With an exasperated sigh he quietly replied, "Ruth, fighting the system is all very well, but there _is_ no fight left to win."

Peering up, her eyes seemed hollow, "I'm not sure I know you anymore."

"Yes you do. You're just scared… just like I am."

"You're never scared." She argued in vein.

"I'm always scared of something, always."

Blank, she stared straight back at him, her eyes unblinking the only movement was the bob of her throat as she swallowed and stay strands of her hair wafted lightly in the breeze.

"Please Ruth," he tried to reach her, "You're the only one I trust, if the IA, or anyone else were to find out what I'm planning I'd be as good as dead."

Her eyes had silently glassed with tears. "A last resort?" her shaky voice confirmed.

"Yes."

Breaking her eyes from his, she closed them and trickles of pain slipped down her cheeks. Her small hand rose up to shield her weeping eyes from him and wirily she consented, "Alright."

Leaning forward on his knee Harry tucked a soft handkerchief in her hand and his lips lingered by her cheek as softly he uttered his gratitude.

Gathering herself, her fingers pinched over her eyes as she sniffed. Grateful for the gift, with a deep breath Ruth wiped the fresh clean cotton across her damp eyes. The scent of Harry captured so sweetly in the cloth, she pushed back a new wave of tears that threatened to brew.

His arms so close to reaching out, so close to pulling her in to his chest and offering the only comfort she'd ever desired, yet like the fool he always was, he pulled back.

Her eyes stung and her lungs burned but taking a steadying breath and dapping the tears one last time she opened her eyes and looked to him, "Harry don't-" Pausing she scanned the garden, the small parcel was left at her side, Harry was gone.

Her fingers gripped and twisted the tear-stained handkerchief. Running a hand through her hair and tucking it from her face she nodded faintly and was left only to utter to herself "…don't leave me."

**tbc…**


	8. Chapter 8

**Reviews heeded and extra credit owed to '****pro patria mori' who gave me the necessary nudge to get this up! :-P**

**Thank you to those who take time to leave a comment... I'm shall do my best to be speedier and fingers crossed, give you an update tomorrow. xx  
><strong>

**..**

The dimming weather meant the park was populated only by a few dedicated joggers, each oblivious to anything other than what blurred from their ear phones.

A little cold, the last of the day's warmth had drained from the scarlet evening sky. In its place rolled smoky dense cloud which ominously drifted overhead, threatening any moment to spill its load.

Alone, no one else but Ruth sat just to sit.

Safely in her pocket laid Harry's photos and cash, transformed into a small package of international documents.

Ruth glanced discreetly at her watch, then back at her book. He was late. Pretending to read and then re-read the page, she'd still no better idea what it offered and if asked wouldn't have even been able to confidently state its language, her nerves were too frayed and her emotions too on edge to notice.

Looking up to the indecisive heavens and remembering her umbrella lay forgotten on her desk, Ruth silently cursed the British summer and wished Harry had considered somewhere a little more sheltered.

After some minutes of painfully forcing her eyes across the same line of her book, her ears pricked with interest, someone was approaching.

Noting the stranger's athletic pace and appearance, Ruth's anticipation quickly wilted. Their dark hoody turned up against the growing chill of the evening air, the jogger's lone rhythmic stride rolled steady in beat with her heart.

Ruth sighed, "Ruddy joggers."

As the runner neared to pass, his unwelcome footsteps grew harder and his intrusive thrashed breathing grew louder.

Head buried in her book, it was with a frown Ruth realised the footsteps were slowing, and was with a twinge of unease that she heard them pull to a halt just to the side of her bench.

Feeling forced to register the person, who's violent billows of air were difficult to ignore, it was with irritation, Ruth finally looked up.

Pulling his hood from his head, Ruth's jaw dropped as she took in Harry's beetroot flushed face and the crystal beads of sweat that sheened his forehead.

Trainers, blue shorts and a sweat-washed hoody, he was a different man.

Ruth quietly gasped, "What's happened?"

Thighs burning and his throat feeling as though he'd inhaled shards of splinted glass, Harry collapsed next to her on the bench. His hair remained damp and ruffled with beads of sweat starting to run the side of his jaw. Hanging his head back and looking to the sky, he tried to grasp enough breath to speak. "What?" He wheezed and wiped his arm across his face. "Oh… this?" he panted as he tugged at his jumper and glanced over at her, "... I'm less recognisable than in a suit."

With amused disbelief, Ruth forced her gaze to casually turn away across the park and tried to bite down her smile. "You are. Trust me, even I wouldn't, _didn't,_ guess."

Having recovered a little he cleared his throat, "Well then," and with a flicker of smugness smiled as he lent forwards to re-tie his laces, "I was right."

Still amused she conceded, "Yes, but you do look like you're about to drop dead from it." Snatching a glimpse from the corner of her eye, Ruth caught Harry's confused squint and explained, _"_You're dripping Harry."

Harry's pride was instantly a little affronted by the observed deficiency in his fitness. Raking his fingers through his damp chestnut hair he slouched back next to her, retaliating with a rasp, "Yes well, I thought I'd be more convincing as a jogger if I actually _did_ jog Ruth."

Not missing a beat, "Through what, The Thames?"

Brow arched, he couldn't help but look directly at her, a smattering of amused offense in his complexion his heart lifted at witnessing her equally upturned lips. The dark mischief clear in her eyes broke them both into muffled grins.

"Touché" He softly settled. Harry continued, "Thought you'd be pleased. I'm taking better care of myself, at your suggestion."

With a smirk Ruth looked back across the park, "Well I _suggest _you don't have a heart attack whilst you're at it."

Their banter lifted Harry's face into a broadening smile. It felt good after the past weeks of depression but it was to be short lived. Time, as ever, was short and there was business to attend. He paused, hesitant in quashing a rare moment of cheer between them, ultimately he had no choice, "Ruth did you, did you manage to take care of… _things_?" He trailed off.

Just a fraction of movement, but enough for his sharp eyes to detect, he spotted her shoulders deflate. Her gaze remained off in the distance, "Yeah… It's all sorted."

"Good."

There was a silence, Ruth bit her lip, and her face turned to his, tentatively she sought some reassurance, "You said it was a last resort?"

Harry blew a gentle breath from his pursed lips. So far the trial was heading in one direction and although he hoped for the best in all honesty the probable reality was bleak. With a broken sad smile he curved his head to face her and catching Ruth's eyes spoke softly, "My very last."

With a curt nod Ruth broke from his eyes and both walked their eyes outwards to the park. Ruth stomach turned, conscious of her own denial, this all felt so wrong yet what other choice did she have?

In the settling silence Ruth considered how best to slip him the parcel.

During her contemplation she threw Harry a slide glance. With surprise and alarm she witnessed a transformation in Harry's features. His muscles had fixed ridged and his breathing had drawn down to a deadly slow wisp. Snapped far off and intently scanning the far edge of park, his narrowed eyes remained unblinking and cold in their search.

Trepidation grew. Her body like his, stiffened as her blood ran cool. A moment passed, Ruth wondered what horror was about to be unleashed, in hushed whisper, she prompted him, "Harry?" He remained lost to her, her hand reached and settled on his knee, squeezing it, she repeated more firmly, "Harry?".

The warmth of her skin melting through his chilling legs brought him back to her. He blinked, and then rapidly blinked again. Just as quickly as he'd been lost, he restored himself to practised ease. Resting his hand over hers his face lightened and he apologised, "Sorry."

"What is it?" She breathed with caution.

"Nothing" he replied confidently, "Just paranoia playing games."

Ruth was too disturbed to appreciate Harry's Hand on hers. "Right," she responded, obviously unconvinced and still weary.

Ruth trusted his instincts, if Harry was on edge there _usually _was a justified reason. The fact he wasn't telling her what it was, was neither here nor there, she was still unnerved.

Her mind turned back to the small bundle she still had poking her in the ribs.

Field-craft had never been her forte but if someone _was _watching them then she didn't want to let them spot her handing him his last life line.

Her face crumpled and she bit her lip as she decided on the simplest plan of action, '_Oh god' _She thought… deliberately bare of emotion, Ruth stated her warning plainly...

"Harry," His expression twitched with interest, "Harry, I'm going to kiss you..."

**tbc ...**


	9. Chapter 9

**Heehee glad you all liked the 'Harry in shorts' set up! I think I slipped up a bit there with the aim of keeping it towards what 'actually could happen' on the show, but t'is more than worth it :P**  
><strong>continues straight on...<strong>

**Don't own spooks :( **

-xx-

…"Harry, I'm going to kiss you."

His breath halted and stomach twisted tight, his mouth ran dry as he dare hope, "Wha-?"

Shifting herself closer, he fell silent. The weight of her leg rested with his as she closed their frames together the darkness in her eyes blackened to a depth that sent a shiver of expectant anticipation through him.

Harry's breath drew shallow and slow as she slid a loose hand round his neck and with deliberate slow simplicity, drew his head near, lifting her lips to his.

Their eyes falling shut, her warm lips melted softly into his and Harry crumbled into releasing a murmured sigh. With strong but feather-light touch his hands wrapped round her waist whilst the feel her lips moving with unhurried leisure under his made him murmur in final content. Harry was drugged with desire and amongst it almost missed Ruth's other hand, hidden between their bodies, slide a small parcel into his shorts pocket.

Breath shaky, Ruth pulled back but their heads still close, left her trailing hand resting curled round the base of his neck. Under heavy breath her gaze remained locked with his. Her fingers fought a desire to plough through his damp locks and again taste his salty soft lips. Through those open brown eyes she registered his swell of disappointment as Harry realised her kiss was a rouse only to disguise the exchange.

Both still at a standstill, the light lure of her perfume floated between them, but it was the absence of her complete retreat, the lingering weight of her arm around his neck, that proved adequate encouragement for his willing lips to forgo caution and seize possession of hers once more.

No pretence of parcels or of appearance, his only excuse was that he loved her.

Head dipped, he captured her lips in a slowed but stronger, second kiss. For a brief few seconds he felt her return his passion, escaping her reserve, Ruth, mind body and soul, was his.

Releasing her lips his hands pawed the edge of her waist and their noses brushed. Foreheads resting on the others, Harry's hands rose to smooth and grip her arms.

Her breath heavy, her lips brushed back with his, "Promise me something."

"Ruth-" he quickly pleaded.

"Please." Her lips pressed a light kiss to his and with helpless sigh he complied.

Ruth whispered, "Promise if you have to go, that I'll see you.. that we've more time than this together."

His hot steamy breath beat back at her, Harry's reply was but to remain deafly silent and still.

Ruth lifted her head from his and felt his hands flinch tighter as he feared she'd break from him completely. His body still close; her hands rode up and settled on his chest, the now cold damp jumper numbed her fingers and with equal chilling fear, her face fell to a deeper frown.

"Harry?" She urged, she pleaded.

Still Harry hesitated, eyes drifting from hers, he replied weakly, "I promise."

Ruth slipped a hand to his cold cheek. Turning his glistening eyes she forced them to meet hers, his breath drew sharp and she wondered if it was guilt she saw spark within them.

Her face was all questions.

He unearthed a meagre smiled and this time, his eyes unblinking, was more convincing in his vow, "You've my word Ruth, I promise." Leaning down to her he bravely teased her lips with his, pressing firmer, with a sigh he confessed, "I love you Ruth."

Helpless in her reply, as they parted, Ruth breathed back, "I love you too Harry."

Through glassy sad eyes a smile graced her face. She carved her freed hands down either side of his cheeks. Through molten brown eyes he gazed lovingly back at her bluest of blue. Her soft hands brushing either slide of his roughened blond stubble, jokingly she reprimanded, "You need a shave."

His chest spluttered with an unexpected chuckle and her smile broadened. Harry lifted her hands from his face and with a fleeting kiss, pressed his warm lips to them.

For all but a flicker, life was good.

Distantly an echo of thunder reverberated across the darkening park and they were left to gaze their joined hands between them. "We should go" she squeezed his hands.

Harry nodded. "Yes."

Still they sat, hands joined together, each less willing than the other to bring their rendezvous to an end. He'd promised another meet yet Ruth couldn't shift the saddened sense of finality between them.

Reluctantly yielding to the inevitable, Ruth rose first off the bench and then Harry with her. Her hands threaded in his he drew their bodies together. At long last and properly, he held her in his arms, placing a kiss in her soft chocolate locks, Ruth's eyes fluttered closed and holding him tight, her body sank into his.

His heart thumped firmly against hers, it was a moment he'd long yearned for but with regret and guilt filling him his eyes remained open. Unable to fully enjoy the moment, he stared distantly and with the heavy weight on his mind.

"Ruth," He soothed, "I'm so _very _sorry…" Falling from the embrace Ruth looked back at him with worry,"…for everything that _has _happened, and what _will." _

"I know." She blindly forgave. Stroking her hands down his arms, "It'll be ok. We always are…in the end." Her forced chuckle fell short.

With a courtesy nod he returned a faded smile… "You know Ruth, you're so beautiful…"

Ruth's expression jolted with gentle surprise.

"…It's just, I've always wanted to tell you that." He tried to explain.

Ruth peered back at him, lost for words, again it was the essence of finality to his confession that gripped and scared her.

"Harry, tell me what's wrong?" She asked gravely.

Harry shook his head in dismissal and seeing the growing questions and fear deep in her eyes began to turn, "I should go."

Ruth snatched his arm and halted him. Anger flashed through her eyes, "No. No you don't get to kiss me, tell me you love me, then _not _tell me what's going on."

With pain creasing his features he responded, "I can't, I don't even know myself. Just that it's dangerous and…. and that I'm scared Ruth. More scared than I ever have been."

"Let me help." Ruth was desperate in her demand.

"No." He sighed frimly.

"Har-"

"I don't want you involved."

"You said you loved me. I am involved."

A punch to the stomach Harry wrestled with his conscience. He paused and then with unease replied, "There only one thing."

Ruth answered without hesitation or doubt, "Anything."

"It won't be easy." He warned.

Ruth nodded, her heart rate climbing, she'd fight the world for him.

Rubbing his tired hands over his wiry face he squinting through saddened eyes, "I ask a promise… That when the time's right, you'll forgive me Ruth."

Ruth's eyes stung with fear, "Harry?" Her voice wavered, "Harry you can't -"

With speed he stepped close and gripped her shoulders tight, leaning his head to hers spoke firmly, "Don't ask me to explain, I can't, not yet… It's the one thing, the only thing Ruth, that I can ask no one else but need the most."

Ruth's strength drained, and with infinite dread, she whimpered her faithful reply, "Okay."

"Don't forget your promise."

"Then you don't forget yours," Ruth retorted straight back.

His eyes falling shut and with fleeting touch of his lips he brushed hers. "I love you," he breathed once more.

He broke and as her eyes and mouth opened to speak, she held silent, Harry had already turned and lifting his hood, his image quickly blurring with the hazy night, had begun to jog.

Ruth's thoughts were now a blur of bewilderment, knowing only one thing, Harry was scarred. Never a good sign.

As Ruth paced the concrete path out of the park towards the flickering illumination of the street-lit London road she tugged her light jacket tighter around herself and wished that with daybreak would come a simple end to this nightmare.

What loomed, she reasoned, must be worse than simply the outcome of his inquiry. Harry begged forgiveness, but of what of? What was to be his sin?

What plagued her was the idea that it was something so terrible that it was to be so much harder to forgive than what she already had?

**tbc…**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you all for the lovely reviews, they're so sooo great to read and it's interesting to see your different takes on it.**

**Okay I know this one's short but hope to redeem myself as I'll post another update very shortly…**

-x-x-

The verdict was as they feared but as predicted, guilty.

Instead of going quietly Harry had given his keepers the slip and for the last 48hours had gone dark, his whereabouts a mystery even to Ruth.

The IA had responded in actions that included intensifying the scrutiny to Ruth's own movements and communications.

Musing to herself during the early morning commute to work, Ruth considered entirely for her own amusement, giving her not-so-subtle stalker the slip but her desire to simply get to the grid won out and she resolved to simply ignore the boy numpty that followed her, for now.

-x-x-

Sat at her station with no way to help, Ruth's heart beat with a painful pulse of depression. She wondered how long this could continue, for how long would he run? Ultimately Harry was too big a fish for the government to just 'loose'. The hunt wouldn't cease till they'd got their pound of flesh and there was a part of Ruth that wondered both what lengths they'd go to get it and if it were for his own good to give up sooner than later.

Releasing herself for a critically needed lunch time coffee, Ruth bypassed the staff canteen and, in search of some fresher air, opted for the little coffee bar down the road.

With annoyance Ruth registered her 'tag along' follow her up the river. Inside, seating herself at a small wooden table, the room was too small for her tracker to enter unnoticed and Ruth drew some bitter comfort knowing they'd have to wait outside in the relative cold till she choose to lead them back to Thames House.

Whilst taking a nourishing sip of caffeine strengthened brew, try though she might, she couldn't help wondering what she was to do in this mess. Just as she deepened her ponder to some or any way she might be able to try contact Harry, a chirp from her phone sounded and Ruth began digging it out from the depths of her seemingly bottomless handbag.

Triumphantly lifting out her prize she scanned the screen.

'_1 New Voicemail_'

Thumbing it, Ruth lifted it to her ear and was initially greeted by the robotic voice of her inbox.

"One new voicemail, message from withheld number sent today at 12.13 pm…" There was an audible rustle of background, blustery wind, after the brief pause Harry's raspy voice rippled through her, "It's me-"

With her finger desperately stabbing at the phone Ruth instantly hung up, threw her phone in her bag, abandoned her coffee and, back on her feet, made for the back exit of the coffee shop. As her keeper burst through the front entrance Ruth already had a good head start and was making her way back up along the river.

Heading towards the grid, Ruth knew she needed to listen to his message without risking it being intercepted by the IA.

Having lost her tail Ruth made it to the outside steps of Thames House. This was when her beeper began screeching its wailing alarm and the coming nightmare began to truly unravel…

**tbc…**


	11. Chapter 11

**Like the series itself, all good things must come to an end.**

**I would ask you to enjoy this but realise there's a good chance you won't. :-/**

**.x.**

**The Grid**

"What is it?" Ruth demanded at Demetri as she practically broke through the pods and back onto the grid.

"Explosion, Lewisham Street."

"What do we know?"

"Only we've a safe house in that street and is currently listed as unoccupied, that's it so far. The Met said they'll update us as soon as they know more. "

Cullum bopped up from behind his desk, "Just been confirmed: car bomb, single casualty."

Ruth paused a moment, something in her gut, something she dreaded stirred. "I'm going down there." Grabbing the keys to one of the grid's pool cars, Ruth disappeared into the depths of the underground car park.

Whilst fastening her seatbelt she drew out her phone. Still within Thames House, Ruth utilised its secure communications filter and re-opened her voicemail.

Despite knowing who's voice she'd soon hear it prevent her breath halting as he spoke, "It's me," he breathed heavily. "Look, time is short but I intend to keep my promise. There're some things I need to sort first." A car door slammed and the background noise silenced, in its place the quiet purr of an engine started up. "Meet me tonight, the usual place." He paused and in the silence she waited with baited breath for some further utterance, but for what would be eternal disappointment, nothing more was said, the line went simply fell dead. …"To re-play this message press- ."

Phone, thrown in the general direction of her bag, she took a measured breath and turned the car key. With an engine roar, Ruth set off for Lewisham, there was part of her that foresaw the scene that was to come but the echo of reassurance that Harry still had his promise to fulfil, that she would see him tonight and that this was part of his plan, placated her unsettled fears.

**Lewisham Street**…

London's traffic was busy, it took Ruth an hour to reach the other side of the city, parking restrictions were by far the last of Ruth's considerations and abandoning the car on yellow lines, headed briskly towards the side street.

Her emotions set to 'numb' Ruth functioned in automatic. Walking up the narrow street the putrid smell of burnt rubber made the air thick to breathe whilst black smoke wafted over the surrounding houses and hazed together with the murky grey sky.

Ahead of her a lumi-vested Police officer guarded stretched out police tape in a road cordon ahead.

'_It's not him,'_ she recited silently to herself.

'_It won't be him'_ she continued her mantra as she paced past the nosing neighbours.

_A_ policeman went to block Ruth's path but she held out her ID in his direction with such practiced ease that he let her pass uninterrupted.

Beyond her, windows displayed proof of the explosion with their broken remains, along with twisted wreckage, strewn across the street. Trawling delicately over managed debris, men in white overalls engulfed the epicentre, the driveway of one of the houses, the driveway of Section D's safe house.

She wouldn't let doubt crumble her yet.

Nearing the blackened house,the burnt out wreckage of what was Harry's Landover was almost unrecognisable. Its silver frame was contorted such that it looked more like something that'd escaped The Tate modern, than something that was ever road worthy.

'_Too convenient,_' Ruth muttered under quivering breath,_ 'You're set for jail but blown up in a car bomb? They won't buy it Harry, it's too bloody convenient_.'

Ruth stepped closer, her fingers pressed lightly on the corner of what she assumed was once the bonnet, its heat still enough to make her flinch.

The smouldering smoke from the remnants of the car, lodged in her throat, the taste staining her tongue, she leaned over one of the men at work. Ruth craned her head and absorbed the sight of dark blood scotched into the recesses of the car's interior, despite her denial, _that_ was definitely blood, the acceptance of which caused Ruth's stomach to lurch.

"The body?" Holding up her ID she curtly addressed one of the masked forensics.

"Gone ma'am. Taken what's left off it for testing. We'll be lucky to get dental records. Did find this though," The man briskly held up a half melted passport. "Also got a couple grand's worth of Euro's in a holdall oh and a couple of other ID's too; looks like he was planning a permanent holiday somewhere."

A feeling of nausea rose further up in Ruth stomach, she forced it back down and asked quickly so she wouldn't brake, "Who's was it?"

The man used a latex clad finger to gently pry open the crispy photo page, turning the page to Ruth, Harry's photo was clearly identifiable, "Apparently …Mr Joshua Stone."

Harry's last resort, his new reality, and now burnt to a crisp.

As the man sealed up the evidence in a clear bag, Ruth Blankly nodded her thanks and started to walk away.

Still, Ruth held on...

Struggling with reality, her withering steps lead her away from the drive way,

Denial remained her refuge.

Reaching the pavement Ruth's eye caught a small round flint of smashed glass. The scrap was obviously another victim of the explosion but its circular appearance stood apart from that of the other shards of scattered glass. Picking it up she was conscious of her hands trembling. Forcing her fingers steady, she grasped it and lifted it.

For a beat Ruth's heart failed to function, failed to beat at all, then it seemed to blast with a thousand pulses.

The straps obliterated, she held the face of a watch and beneath both the shattered and heat-warped glass, the hands of the timepiece stood stilled at 12.14

Wish a squint, Ruth recognised the distinctive appearance of its features.

Her mind cast back to the aged memory of Harry's wearing a similar out-dated watch, unchanged over so many years. '_An antique?'_ Ruth had once wondered. One time she'd caught him in his office winding it up and had suggested he upgrade. She recalled:

-..-

"Thank you Ruth but as tempting as Malcolm's watches _are_, gadget, gismo's n' all, I'm perfectly happy with this one."

"I thought you might want something more reliable?"

"I'll have you know this watch was made with workmanship that doesn't include a production line of robots and will last longer than you or I."

"So long as you keep winding it up?" Lips curled, Ruth battled to repress the tone of tease in her voice.

"Well, yes." Harry sighed at Ruth's ability to outsmart him…constantly. He rewarded her with an confession of something nearer the truth," I suppose this watch also holds a certain amount of sentimental value."

"Ah, sentiment, the true value of a gift," Ruth had replied wistfully.

"Sadly, it wasn't a gift. It belonged to my younger brother Ben." Adding lighter, "You could argue I pinched it."

"You've a brother?" Ruth had piped, genuinely intrigued.

"Had." Harry had quickly pushed on, "Besides, don't sound too interested, Ben would have been too young for you and too…innocent." He smiled looking anything but.

In her surprise Ruth had thrown an expression of mock outrage, "That so?"

"Yes." He confirmed defiantly as a dark mischief swam between them.

-..—

It was one of the earlier occasions that conversation had swayed into flirtation. One she'd not forget.

-..-

Ruth's shaky hand turned over the face, as she did the glass edges slit her fingers. A small stream of bright blood trickled like water down towards her wrist, she felt no pain, like in the minutes before a tsunami; she could feel and hear nothing.

The wave would hit hard and fast as turning over the watch and using her blood wetted thumb to rinse clean the blackened charred metal she revealed, scratched and scorched but clearly readable, the inscription:

_B.._

Benjamin. James. Pearce.

Harry Brother, Harry's watch. Something of such value that he wouldn't discard, not for this, not when it was only _she_ who knew its value. There could only be one man's wrist who'd it have been strapped to.

The tears finally formed and washed like acid, burning rivers down her face. Ruth had thought the concept too convenient but now her mind flashed back to Harry's words of weeks before, "If they find out what I'm planning, I'm as good as dead."

Blinded, her hands trembled and failed to wash away the blur before her eyes.

-x-x-

Ruth wished she could see him, see some part she recognised but having been at the heart of the explosion, it was left to lab reports to confirm Harry's identity.

Harry had made one last promise and in vein Ruth held on to it. He wouldn't let her down, not her Harry.

Delirium had fully set in and that evening Ruth found herself alone, seated on a park bench, _their_ park bench.

The blustering icy chill in the air did not concern her and the misty specs of rain wafting softly against her check went unnoticed. Ruth simply waited. Cold and sodden, she waited for their promised meet. Time drifted and the early hours drew in, rocking herself gently, a silent tear slipped down her cheek. She told herself he'd eventually appear, that today was just an incredibly elaborate smoke screen and that, jogging or otherwise, he'd emerge from the darkness just as before and wiping her cheeks, would jokingly mock her for being so generous in her tears.

Shards of grey light brightened the night sky and as new day dawned the distant skyline, Ruth still waited. Fastened in her vigil all night, it was evident that for one final time Harry was going to disappoint her and his promise was to remain unfulfilled.

In her grief an anger rose, it was then she recalled her own vow of blind forgiveness. He'd made her promise to forgive him… knowing the odds stacked against him, it must have been the breaking of his own promise to which he begged his pardon.

Either way the end had come.

Harry was dead and inside, Ruth was too.

**Tbc..**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you for all the reviews, you're prompted me to get this up early! **

**5 day Later…**

The small country church up where he'd grown up was to be Harry's final resting place. The church and grounds were a mirror copy of Ros' funeral and gave cruel flashbacks of his proposal.

The last five days Ruth's checks had barely dried but in public Ruth held on to quiet dignity. With raw eyes she sat apart from her other colleagues, a distance between them, they had known him but they hadn't loved him, not like she had.

A small wooden-framed pictured donned Harry's coffin, an old one she decided, his hair sheered short and neat, he held a smile and his eyes twinkled with more energy than she'd seen in them for many a year.

Her fingers griped tighter the white cotton handkerchief at her side. The gift he'd given in her garden only a few weeks earlier, it seemed like a piece of him and if she held it tight enough it would still keep them close.

Reading his prayers the reverend began. Ruth drew a measured breath and tried not to hear the words, tried to shut herself out from the torture of it all. Eyes wandering across the small chapel, in the deepest shadows she caught the darkened face of a lost friend. Aged only a touch, his head bowed and his expression fittingly sombre, Tom Quinn blended in neatly. Ruth returned her eyes back to face Harry's pictured expression and as a single silent tear ran her face, a faint smile rose through her. '_Harry was loved and remembered by more than he knew.'_

-.-.-

The birds tweeted and the tress gently rustled as the wind blew gently through those gathered above the earthy pit where Harry's coffin was to finally lay. Harry's daughter, son, their mother and step-father gathered at the far end. Others, some she knew of and strangers she didn't, filtered the remaining gaps. Blind to all of them and with a deafened ear, Ruth heard the blessing and prayer to which Harry's coffin was lowered slowly to rest.

Mourners turned and after a time it was just Ruth still staring blankly at the scuffs of soil cast over the varnished box.

"I'll miss you." She finally breathed. It was her undoing.

-.-.

Malcolm looked back to Ruth, who up till now he'd given privacy but seeing her shuddering shoulders and hearing her muffled sobs, he began in her direction.

Harry's death had shaken Malcolm. Harry was, and always had been, untouchable in his eyes and many others. Earlier Malcolm considered asking Ruth if it were true, if it was _really_ him? If anyone were to know, to have any glimpse of doubt, it would be Ruth and Ruth alone. These tears of hers did more than earn his sympathy, without a word spoken they answered his question definitely.

Reaching her his arms pulled Ruth's weakened body into his and without even knowing who held her, Ruth collapsed into his chest, each breath scarred with quiet, pain-stricken shudders.

-x-x-

Driving Ruth home Malcolm didn't press conversation and Ruth didn't offer any. It wasn't till they neared her house that she found a meek voice.

Clearing her throat, it cracked with dryness, "I saw Tom earlier, at the church…"

Malcolm smiled in her direction but Ruth was staring far out through the car window.

"I _thought_ I saw him."

She continued, "…I think Harry would have been touched that he came. He always liked Tom, think he saw a lot of his younger self in him."

Turning her head to Malcolm, Ruth quickly added, "And you, Malcolm…I mean, he would have been please you came too."

Malcolm smiled genuinely at her overly diplomatic complement.

"The very lease I could do."

Ruth squinted a look over Malcolm and nodded to herself, "You know, I think he envied you."

Malcolm scoffed. "That I doubt very much."

Ruth explained, "You made the right choice, you left while you still could."

"Would it surprise you if I say there are days I regret leaving, days I miss being on the grid?"

Ruth's face tweaked with interest, replying. "No surprise I'm afraid. I had it all yet there were times, moments, when I missed it too."

Malcolm smirked and shifting gear, turned off into her road, "I suppose we've been institutionalised somewhat… I've even pondered re-applying."

Ruth's heart fell and looking out at the passing houses warned quietly," Those '_Days_' you miss it, do you think of days like today?"

"Course I don't."

"But that's the reality Malcolm. _This_ is what happens… You attend the funerals of dead colleagues, your friends, till either they ran out… or you do."

For the short distance that remained, silence reigned, her words churning in his mind, how could he argue what was so brutally true?

Pulling up to her house Malcolm softly sighed, "Ruth, I think I should stay a while, you seem a little-"

"What?" She flipped back in defence.

"Nothing, I'd just be happier knowing you were alright."

Ruth rose a little from her doleful mood, "You've a long drive and I'm fine, really. I haven't slept for almost a week, I'll go to bed, I just need some sleep."

"I really think that-"

Squeezing his arm she forced her face into something of a weak smile, "Please Malcolm."

Unconvinced but with no means to argue Malcolm conceded.

-.-.-

It was late afternoon and the sky remained inappropriately bright for such a day. Home for an hour now, Ruth was still unable to settle. Pacing up and down she finally grabbed her car key and slammed the front behind her as she left.

Turning the key in the ignition she didn't know where she was headed but it happened to be, Ruth didn't make it too far at all.

-.-.-.

The earth now piled high, Ruth sat at the bench by his graveside. Looking at the space with calmer reflection and tired of tears, it was with a little relief that her eyes seemed to have finally run dry.

Sitting and thinking, Ruth found herself willed to talk to him, talk as if he was there, as if he'd hear her voice and somehow it'd all make sense.

"You're a bloody nightmare sometimes." She breathed at him.

"You knew my dad well then?" Catharine joked desperately, a sharp crack of a twig sounded as Catharine stepped in closer from Ruth side.

Recognising the smartly dressed woman as Harry's daughter Ruth smile, "Hi."

"Hi," the blonde approached cautiously.

"I should go, leave you to-"Ruth shrugged a nod toward his grave.

"Please don't." She pleaded hastily.

Ruth smiled and nodded acceptance whilst Catherine seated herself next to the older woman.

Catharine was curious, "I saw you earlier, at the service. Did you know each other well?"

With a glance, Ruth saw Catherine eyes were red with shed tears. Turning back to look at him, a lump had lodged in her throat so she was left to just nod her reply.

Catharine followed her gaze over to the muddied earth. "I'd had an argument with him before… I'll never be able to put it right."

Ruth swallowed hard, twice, to clear her throat and replied, "Catherine he loved you, you and your brother Graham."

Surprised Ruth knew her name, Catharine glanced up to the honesty and trust expressed in Ruth's face and her heart boke a little at Ruth's disclosure.

Catherine paused a moment and in response replied, "And you… did he love you?"

Ruth's face crumpled but she held together and with a little cough, cleared her throat, "Harry and I, we were close."

The breeze blew by and there drifted a comfortable pause.

Catherine frowned, sensing there was more to it, but she let it rest. "I Wish I'd known him better."

Ruth turned her head to look at the younger girl, Catherine's chocolate eyes were a carbon copy and straining to level her voice, her eyes seemed to almost meet with his. "With all his faults he _was_ a good man, Catherine."

Catherine stared wishfully at where her father lay. "Do you think…do you think sometime after this, you could tell me a little more about him….something to tell his grandkids?"

"You're?"

"Eight weeks."

Through a heavy breath Ruth's eyes glassed over and eagerly offered a nod, "Of course."

"Thank you." Catherine's own voice had begun to crack and reaching to her handbag she drew a fresh tissue to dab her eyes. Reaching again for a pen Catharine scribbled down her contact information on a card.

She passed it to Ruth and with hopeful smile added, "Be in touch, please." Walking to the evening light, Catherine left Ruth and her father alone once more.

A few minutes passed with Ruth stuck in a gaze before her whisper finally fell from her lips, "She lovely Harry…. I'll make sure she knows the _real_ you… " Ruth broke into a flicker of a smile, "Though that may include your occasional tantrums _and_ of course your dreadful timing."

Hollowness washed her face as her lips barely uttered her farewell, "Night Harry."

Rising to her feet Ruth tightened her coat and made her way across the cemetery. Ruth's rational head realised the senselessness in her talking to what was now only a grave, mere shadows and dust of true reality, but its insanity was what might just keep her sane through this.

**tbc…**


	13. Chapter 13

_**Apologies to those I upset, I realise with nerves already on the edge for tomorrow's final Ep (Mine included!), I've been a bit hash but I do thank you sooo much for all the comments and prods. It makes my day to think you guys enjoy reading what's here.**_

_**This is the longest chapter I've posted but couldn't bear to split it and hopefully explains why it took a tad longer to post. Please please do review or I'll be left in the dark and no one like the dark… **_

So much had been planned. This wasn't how it was supposed to play out…

-.-.-

It had been several days since Harry's funeral. In that time Ruth hadn't gone to work, there seemed no point to it, in fact Ruth saw little point to anything these days.

Morning rain hammered on her windows, its relentless clatter was the only reason she was awake before noon.

Pulling her dressing gown tight around her, in cosy slippers she flipped on the kitchen radio, the quiet tune to Bryan Adams', 'When you're gone', hummed from the speakers, sighing, it seemed the world was united in a mission to remind her of her grief. With tired eyes Ruth considered if it was to be tea or coffee her body most required.

Reaching for her strongest coffee Ruth was scooping spoons into her red mug. The mug had been a joke from Malcolm in his retirement, its print reading: 'Keep Calm and Carry On', Ruth was left to muse the instructions as the doorbell rang. Glancing down the hall through the marbled glass, Ruth made out the silhouette of someone hunching from the rain and holding what looked like a newspaper above their head.

Reaching the door she unlatched it and let a rather scruffy but harmless looking chap, a foot within the doorway.

Lowering his soggy newspaper and turning his collar up against the morning chill, the man smiled, "Morning Miss."

"Can I help?"

"I'm lookin' for a Miss Everhead."

Ruth sighed, "It's Ever-_shed_, and that's me."

Looking her up and down, the man frowned, "Right. Well your taxi's ere. I'm guessing you either forgot or changed your mind?"

"Taxi?"

"Yep, Miss Everhead, Seven AM."

"Ever_shed_," she growled, "and I didn't order a taxi."

"Look luv all I knows is I've been paid triple to come collect you by seven."

"What?" Ruth was further confused "To go where?"

"Dun-no" he shrugged.

"Don't know? _You're _the driver!"

"Technicality."

Ruth was well practice in holding her patience, dealing with civil servants all day, it had become essential requirement, but his morning Ruth was not at her best, "What? ..There's no technicality about it. There's the taxi. You drive it, ergo, Taxi-Driver."

"Not a morning person are you luv?..." he replied drearily.

Ruth silently fumed.

"…I've been given a postcode to type into the satnav once, and only once we set off. Dat's all I know. Did seem a bit dodge to me but it's up to you miss, you coming or not?"

Ruth pulled her dressing gown tighter around her. She felt like a fish taking the bait. "Erm…alright. Give me two minutes…"

Having hastily thrown some form of clothing on Ruth grabbed her long jacket and about to step out the door, glanced at the phone on the side, she realised she should report what's happening.

She should, but of course she didn't.

-x-x-x-

The thick tar-like smell of diesel consumed the air as stepping from the cab Ruth wandered curiously along a paved path towards a large aircraft hangar. The rain thumped down in heavy droplets, thudding against her shoulders and sealing strands of her hair together. Wiping the rain from her eyes she looked around her.

The desolate grey tin hanger stood alone, surrounded only by green sub-urban fields and with a single black strip of tarmac that she presumed served as a runway. Deserted of people, the patter of rain muffled a distant sound of a small engine purring from within the hanger.

Nearing the hanger entrance, pleased to at least soon be out the rain, Ruth's path was blocked. From behind the large sliding doors stepped out a figure and Ruth halted in momentary shock. Less than ten meters from her, marbled chocolate pools of expression stared back. Buttoned in a thick long jacket, a ghost peered back at her.

Wind-burnt rosy cheeks coloured her otherwise whitewashed face. Eyes glued wide open she softly stepped closer till the distance between them was at arms breadth. Both transfixed in a silent gaze, Harry's heavy breath misted the air between them. Rain lightly beat his shoulders and with a timid smile he was just starting to let her name fall from murmuring lips when he recognised the heart-ache imprinted in her face and spotted too late the open hand that rapidly sped its way to his jaw.

THUNK- Slapping him hard, Harry caught the full force of her strike. Her expression broken, she had no insult adequate for words.

Hand cradling his face, Harry cringed from both the sharp pain searing through his jaw and from mounting guilt.

Sealing the gap between them, his gentle paws gripped her shoulders and with the softest purrs he entreated, "Ruth please."

Deep furrows dug across her brow, lips left to quiver, her emotion boiled over into an angry sob and with loose fits struck his chest.

Harry withstood the beating, gradually pulling her closer to him he quashed the fight in her and held her shivering chest next to his.

Spoken to his chest she shuddered, "All the time..."

His gravelly voice vibrated through her, "I'm so sorry"

Ruth shook her head and tilting back trapped him with her eyes. A tear rolled her cheek, "I thought you were dead, do you have _any_ idea?"

"I-"

Abruptly Ruth pushed back so her body was freed a little space from his and she further drilled her eyes into his, "You should have told me. You _could_ have told me!"

"Ruth, " The purr of her name his continued and begged apology.

Crystallised eyes looked back at him, with infinite caution his arms drew their bodies back together and bravely his fingers rose to trail up her jaw, tucking aside her locks of hair, he felt her surrender to his touch.

Ruth's hands rested on the lapels of his jacket, her eyes still tinted in anger but glazed with relief, she lifted a hand to his cheek. His head melted into her touch and unable to hold back Ruth fell to him and brushed her lips with his. His lips burned through her whilst his heated breath was left to wash her mind numb of sense. Withdrawing her lips her thumb continued to brush across his cheek and in broken utterance, whispered "Of all the things you've done Harry."

Turning her hand from his jaw he softly kissed her palm. Her hand now in his, he sighed with regret. Seeing the pain he'd caused, the pain he always caused, it ate rotten through his soul.

Overwhelmed and feeling the fool, Ruth twisted her hand free of his and replaced her fisted hands on his chest, "I've even been talking to your bloody grave for Christ sake."

Again Harry cringed and it was time to explain. His horse voice began, "It_ had_ to be this way…"

Ruth's face narrowed with doubt.

He continued, "…Science can be faked, but your reaction was undeniably real. You, of _all_ people Ruth, _had_ to believe it was me so others would too."

Fathoming out Harry's game, Ruth's face dented further, "So your watch?"

Averting his eyes he admitted, "I knew you'd know what it meant to me, how unlikely I would be to leave it."

Ruth paused, her breathing deepened and raising her battered eyes to meet his, her voice was left numb, edged in final disappointment, "You used me Harry."

Her words ripped breath from his lungs. Jaw clenched in rising anguish, his fingers lifted to scrunch her shoulders a little tighter, "I know what I did was terrible but I didn't want any of this, it was the only way." His head sunk and his expression pleaded with her.

Her mind awash with surreal confusion, Ruth removed herself from his spellbinding gaze and looked aside. Harry's arms fell from her shoulders and Ruth was woken to his fingers threading through hers.

Snapping her eyes to his, she wanted nothing more than to kiss him, act out just one of the thousand scenes she'd wished for if she ever had just five minutes more with him. Yet his use of her, stung, "Of all the things you've done Harry, _this_, this…." Cracked with emotion her voice trailed off

Harry squeezed her hands and with pain edged in his face breathed, "Forgive me."

Her fingers flexing within his, Ruth's face twisted aside and her face filled with resistance.

Rasping his plea, "You said anything."

Gently she shook her head, "What?"

"In the park, when you asked to help, you said you'd do 'anything' and I said, 'it wouldn't be easy.'."

Ruth was firm in her defence "Harry, I didn't agree to-"

"Forgive me?" he cut in.

"Oh Harry," Feeling duped she deflected the memory but undeniable was the brick of recollection that hit her. The evening in the park, the passionate kiss of his lips and her blind promise of forgiveness, Ruth's mind was flooded with it all.

Reigning in her grievances Ruth tried to gather her thoughts and giving in to an aching heart, sighed a mix of defeat and despair as she finally let her body truly wilt into his, "Oh Harry, this has all been such a mess."

Placing a kiss in her hair he wrapped his arms round her and drawing back, nuzzled his smooth shaven cheek against hers, his eyes fluttered shut and he murmured relief, "Oh Ruth, my dear Ruth."

Gazing up at his tired, hollow eyes Ruth sniffed back the tears that'd pushed to the corners of her eyes, "What happens now?"

Harry nodded behind him and lamely replied, "I'll find another country, another life."

Ruth bit her lip and found some lightness, "I see you're going out in better style than I did then?" Stiffing back tears she nodded towards the small plane behind him.

Forcing a smile he replied with the glimmer of cheek in his eye, "Tomas Cook loyalty points, seems I've exiled enough spooks to earn an upgrade to wings."

With his awful joke came a shared burst of sad laughter and Ruth clutched him tighter.

Her fingers rolling along the edges of his coat her question was laced with an element of mother-like concern, "How will you manage?"

Tilting back he shot her a questioning look.

Ruth explained, "You've lived God knows how many years being chauffeured around, dinners served in a club, I doubt you remember the last time you had to even look at a washing machine."

An amused smile grew across his face and whilst his spare hand re-tucked strands of her wetted hair behind an ear, replied, "Ruth, I assure you I am fully house trained. Out of practice yes, but competent nonetheless."

Leaning to his touch, Ruth gave quiet sigh, "Yes I know, I just-"

His hand started to trace her jaw, "I be fine," he breathed.

Her eyelids faltering under their own weight, his fingers continued to caress, "I know."

Tracing his thumb over her lips he longingly sighed, "We making such a terrible habit of goodbyes, Ruth."

Prising her glassy eyes open she nodded and her breathing deepening a little, "So take me with you."

Harry's face fell with shock. "What?"

"I'll come with you. Us, we can be together. Start a new life."

Harry looked deep within those swirling blue eyes, his lips quivered in doubt, "Ruth, you've not thought this through, you're emotiona-"

"What's left to think?" She demanded.

He uttered his response, "It just _can't_ be, Ruth."

Broken and confused she replied, "Why?"

"Oh Ruth," the answer lay hidden in his eyes.

"You said….you said you loved me."

"And I do," He replied firmly, "Completely."

"I don't understand then." Taking a breath, she sort to reassure him, "This isn't a sacrifice for me, there's nothing left for me here. This life it's…well it's slowly destroying me and you, you're the only thing I-" Biting her lip she finished her confession, "Harry, without you I'll always be lonely."

Harry squinted and for a terrifying moment Ruth thought it was disgust she saw but with a shake of his chest she realised he was trying hard to suppress a growing shudder of emotion.

Her hand reached up and cupped his jaw, a hopeful smile grew over her, '_perhaps he thinks a life with him is a poor trade? How wrong he is,'_ and for the first time in weeks hope filled her trodden heart. "Together, you and I, just think of it."

Her hands soothing his jaw, she'd made it sound so simplistic that he could see it, perhaps even almost touch it, but biting his lip and with a mournful shake of his head, his voice trembled in return, "You must stay, Ruth."

Hands slipping from his face, "Don't. Don't say that," she appealed.

His breath was husky but firm as he gave her a final explanation, "Going AWOL just a week after my apparent death, don't you think someone would suspect?... The risk of _anyone_ thinking, or even slightly suspecting that I'm anything but dead, would mean the hunt restarted, eventually they'd find me...they'd find _you _too."

"So where does that leave _me_ Harry, what am_ I_ to do?" she replied whimpishly.

With no answer, Harry replied, "I so wish it could be different, I really do."

Ruth shook her head, drawing a shallow breath she cursed, "Why did you bother with this? Why not leave me to think you're dead?… At least then I wasn't rejected."

"I am _not _rejecting you!"

"Feels like it."

"Damn it Ruth, do you not think this is hard for me too?..."

Harry took a second breath to recalibrate his tone, with his heart on his sleeve, there was a thin line between anger and frustration.

Calmer, he added, "I didn't want _this_. I _would have_ walked away, _would have_ let you think me dead, because as much as it may pains me to lose you, I'd do anything to spare you further grief."

After a pause, brushing his sentiment aside, Ruth dug around his words and, convince he'd no answer to give, asked, "What do you mean, you '_would have'_?...What changed?"

"You Ruth, _you_ asked me for a promise… That park, you made me swear we'd meet one last time, one last goodbye, well this is it."

Ruth's heart tumbled to oblivion; this whole meet was so Harry could merely kept his word.

Eyes lost to some distant deepness, her words stumbled, "I'm not sure I can do this alone."

"You're not alone."

Her eyes snapped to his, "I'm without you."

Harry swallowed.

Ruth added, "I didn't even look."

He frowned in confusion.

Offering over a weak smile, "When I gave you your new ID, the two passports, I didn't check the names. So I don't know your name, your _new_ name, I'd figured it safest that way."

Crest fallen, he already knew the implications.

Lips quivering she choked on her warning, "You leave and I'll never find you." Failing to quash a sob her hand found her mouth and held it partly back.

"Ruth," Harry sighed bowing their temples together and breathed, "Oh my dear Ruth."

Spilling through staggered breath, "Somehow you always leave me tears Harry."

Harry grimaced; knowing no words that could make her hurt any less, he pressed a kiss into her hair and with a strong but gentle hold, continued to cradle her.

Knife still twisting in her heart Ruth quietly confessed, "It hurts so much, loving you."

Through a mutter he offered something of a weak apology, "I don't deserve it."

Tensing her arms and pulling back, she looked to him, "Don't you dare say that. Don't you dare say what I've given you isn't worth it."

"That's _not_ what I said."

"No?"

"No." Harry's gaze remained resolute but his heart waning, gave into the risk of temptation, "Let me give you my name. One day maybe you-"

Ruth winced, "No. You don't get to discard me only to feed me some distant trail of hope. You make your decision. One way or the other, it ends here."

Bleakly he replied, "You're right of course, you always are…. Ruth, I _will _have to leave."

Ruth's face flinched with his decision.

He spoke softly, "I understand your need for a clean break from this but for myself, I'll pray _fate_ finds us."

From pursed lips Ruth expelled a burst of air. "Pray?" She asked incredulously, whacking his chest with her tired fist, "You don't believe in God, much less in 'fate'."

Tilting his head, Harry grazed his cheek down across hers, murmuring into her skin, "I believe that when it comes to you and me, there's something, something else at work."

"Harry. Please I-"

"…Oi. Sir, you coming? A spritely young pilot hollered from the seat of a plane, across the airfield.

Swivelling his head and casting a placating nod in the direction of the pilot, hesitation flicked through his eyes. Dipping his head he pressed his lips with hers, tasting her lips and feeling her hands spread against his chest, their muffled breathing drew heavy and in their last moments Ruth clung to him as though she was squeezing the moment for every last drop.

A last brush of her lips with his, the rain washing her tears down both their faces, "Harry you can't."

Lifting his lips from hers he silenced her with soft petalled kisses along her jaw, at her ear he whispered, "This isn't goodbye, it never is with you and I."

Feeling the shudder of her chest beneath him he lifted his head and placed a final kiss in her hair, pausing one last time he inhaled the lightness of her perfume before breaking his body from hers and circling toward the plane. Not looking back, not letting her see the tears that'd started to run freely down his cheeks, he reached a block of steps, briskly climbed up next to the pilot and pulled shut the door to his side.

Propeller spinning in a blur, the engine's fierce buzz intensified and the wheels rolled off...

-.-

Alone in the rain, Ruth stood till the small dot in the sky was no longer visible. Rain had drenched her through and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked out to the empty sky and wondered if it was worse thinking he were dead or knowing he lived but she'd no hope to ever see him.

Her tattered heart couldn't decide, all she did know, was it hurt all over again.

.

-.-

.


End file.
